


Juste Une Bouchée

by Galiko



Series: A Snake in the Garden of Eden [3]
Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Intercrural Sex, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 03:36:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/706072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galiko/pseuds/Galiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set a year and a half after the end of M'Offre Une Pomme. Kouen pays a diplomatic visit to the newly forged kingdom of Sindria, and he and Ja'far enjoy one another's company once again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Juste Une Bouchée

A year and a half later, and little seems to have changed.

That’s a lie, in all actuality.  _Much_  has changed. That island Sinbad found and shaped, molded with the care of  _his_  Magi, is less an empty track of thick forest, more a sprawling, exalted city, brimming with the lives of those that want a place to  _be_ , a place to have _purpose_.

Ja’far knows that feeling well. 

 

 

The palace was built with Sinbad’s hands and his people’s hands, hundreds of followers turning to the thousands, dragging sandstone from the deep and creating something beautiful. Ja’far’s tasks are less physical, but no less  _busy_ , and he does find it soothing, to immerse himself in work involving little but ink and parchment, less knives and blood. 

The country’s name is an old one— _Sindria_ , and Ja’far has to scoff at it still—and word of it travels fast. There’s no helping the flutter of nervousness in his belly knowing that the Kou Empire’s Second Prince will be arriving to discuss trade agreements and treaties so  _soon_ —even if it isn’t ‘soon’, and has been a year and a half, which is quite a lapse of time indeed.

Kouen  _truly_ hasn’t changed much.

Ja’far is taken back to the first night Sinbad stepped foot in  _Kou_ , to when he returned from being in a hole with Masrur for hours upon hours to find Sinbad drunk and laughing with the Ren family. It’s less raucous tonight, though Sinbad is still drunk and giggling like a fool, and Kouen isn’t far off. Ja’far prefers to keep his distance until he helps Sinbad to bed, and with a sigh of relief after prying the clinging, pawing man off of him, shuts the door, considering it all _finished_. 

That’s before Kouen’s hands are on him, of course. 

His touch is sloppier when he’s drunk, it always has been, and those big, broad hands slide over his hips, grabbing at his ass, squeezing hard to drag him close. Ja’far gulps, swallowing hard when Kouen nuzzles into his neck, the scrape of his beard oddly erotic against skin after so long, and he sucks in a slow, measured breath.

“Kou—”

“You still didn’t cut your hair,” he breathes, and Ja’far can smell the alcohol and smoke from the evening, oddly pleasant, no matter the heady mess of it. “I’m glad.” 

It’s the last thing Ja’far hears properly before Kouen bodily drags him down the hall, throwing open the guest room he’s been allocated. Ja’far’s back hits the bed in an instant, Kouen hard and eager between his thighs as his hands drag up, shoving up his robes and spreading them wide. “But no knives here,” he murmurs, seemingly mystified, and Ja’far feels his face grow hot, his breath hot and short at the mere drag of calloused fingers over sensitive skin and scars alike. “And so much  _softer_. You’ve done well for yourself.” 

He has. Ja’far knows it. He opens his mouth to agree, but Kouen’s lips are on his, crushing and biting until he bruises, and Ja’far simply groans, squirming to close his thighs about Kouen’s hips to draw him in  _closer_.

“Get your cock out,” he mutters, and he makes a sloppy grab for it himself, much to Kouen’s low, rumbling approval. “I want it between my thighs.”

The prince is all too eager to oblige, and Ja’far almost laughs at that eagerness. How long has it been since Kouen has had a proper bed partner that took what they wanted, or knew exactly what he liked? Either way, the man’s cock is dripping and painfully hard as it slides between Ja’far’s thighs, those big hands grabbing at them again to squeeze them together as his hips jerk forward, a sticky mess left with each thrust and a grunting moan lost against Ja’far’s neck.

“Definitely… feels better now, that you have some meat on your bones,” Kouen gasps out, and Ja’far likes the way his eyes roll back when he scrapes his nails down the other man’s spine. “Missed it, all the same. Missed  _you_. Missed the way you take my cock.”

“You just missed having someone that can really put up with you,” Ja’far mutters, a pointed squirm leaving them both groaning as Ja’far squeezes his thighs tighter about Kouen’s cock. 

“Oil,” is the ragged hiss between Kouen’s teeth, and Ja’far shoots him a  _look_ , no matter how he goes grabbing for it all the same.

“Ask nicely _, Prince_ —”

It’s the last thing from his mouth save for a yelp when Kouen growls, grabbing him by the arm and flipping him over, face first into the bed. Strong hands grab at his hips, hiking them up high, and Ja’far swallows hard as he feels the slick head of Kouen’s cock drag against his hole, his robes hiked high enough to pool at his back. “This visiting  _prince,_ ” Kouen breathes, and he grabs for the oil, the warm drizzle it over his skin making Ja’far shudder _,_ “appreciates this particular kind of welcome most of all.”

No matter how he thinks he has the upper hand, it’s always  _gone_  with the first, hard shove of a cock inside of him. Kouen in particular is thick, heavy and  _hot_  within him, and Ja’far groans as he shoves in deep, his legs trembling from the initial stretch, something he simply can’t escape from with the hand on his hip, the other hand pulling tight within his hair. 

He’d be a liar if he said he didn’t like it. 

In fact, he loves it. There’s a rough glaze to everything that Kouen does, but an  _urgency_  this time, one of months and months spent without. Ja’far groans and squirms, arching back until it  _hurts_ , his voice breaking on a whine as he twists to try and reach a hand back, to claw at Kouen and  _encourage_  him. Kouen’s mouth is on him, too, hot and sloppy kisses trailed over the back of his neck, over sweat-slick shoulders, and Ja’far shivers as he feels his tongue drag over the sweat beading between his shoulder blades, when he feels his teeth catch the curve of his ear and  _tug_. 

“Doesn’t matter who you ran off with,” is Kouen’s hot, rasping breath in his ear, barely audible over the slap of his hips. “Doesn’t matter, because you’re still  _mine_.”

Ja’far just nods, unthinkingly, and it’s with a groan that he feels Kouen spill within him, hot and slick and  _obscene_ , enough to make his legs shake and give out as his own body follows in kind, making a mess of the otherwise neat, if not now-ruffled bedspread. 

“I  _did_  miss you.” Kouen’s voice is little more than a drunken slur at this point, and Ja’far rolls his eyes as the man simply slumps down atop him, unmindful of how heavy he is.

“Good for you, then,” Ja’far breathes, slowly, carefully wriggling out from beneath him and reaching for the covers to drag them over Kouen properly, “that you’ve just completed an alliance with Sinbad, King of the Seven Seas. You’ll see much more of me, I wager.”

At that, Kouen sort of smiles, and with that, dozes off almost immediately to sleep. 


End file.
